by K. J. Parker
“Sama transported him into the mountains as well …” Sela suggested.
“I don’t think so …” Gil mused. “If the spell he used was anything like the one I used on the Mallock, I don’t think he could use it twice in row, not without serious injury. Spirit form or not. Even with the shard I could barely do it across a few yards. His spell sent me miles away. I think he spent everything he had just for that spell, as far as he could, so I would get here as fast as I could. Otherwise why not just transport me all the way to RavensKeep? There was a limit and he used it. And even if he could have, crossing the mountains was not … easy.” Gil paused for a long while remembering the wolves and the hunger and the freezing cold, and of course the orb.
“Gil?” Sela prodded gently. The others stared at the boy, though no one spoke. His face was filled with pain, too much, to ask more.
“Anyways, my point is that he had help and lots of it. Not just in Astal, but here, in the castle.” Gil paused watching each of them. The archmages glanced at each other. Sela and Tarr watched Gil, Carmine stared at Monith’s body.
“Oal.” Aldrin grimace.
“Perhaps. Maybe. But the sorcerer, in the cavern, wasn’t the sorcerer,” Gil replied.
“What do you mean?” Cassandra snapped.
“He wasn’t the same one from my village. Similar yes. His robe, his magics, similar but not identical. I thought he was, when we were fighting, but now I remember, little things, his boots, his smile, I remember. They are … or were … different people.” Everyone was silent. Carmine tilted his head slightly, still looking at Monith lying on the ground.
“Who was he than?” Sela asked.
“Hard to tell from a pile of ashes …” Cassandra mocked. Gil shrugged. Valik shook his head. Everyone looked, uneasy.
“In any case, who ever he was, he wasn’t the same sorcerer I met in Astal …” Gil said as he rubbed his chin, thinking.
“So what?” Tarr asked.
“So … that means Sama had been planning, projecting, for some time. He had been in my village for at least three days …"
“A month," Valik interrupted.
“What?” Gil looked confused.
“Likely he’d been there a month, maybe longer. Mage Tolin’s body had been dead for weeks before you took the shard … replaced by Sama …” Valik mused. Gil paused, and stared at Valik for a long while.
“My point is,” Gil picked up again, “Sama had been planning this for a long time. He’s been projecting out of the coffin for a long time. Who knows how long. And he’s been making friends and allies—”
“Followers …" Cassandra interjected.
“ …For a long time.” Gil finished. “A cult right? You said they were wiped out? Maybe not. Not anymore. Maybe, never. Maybe they’ve always been around, hiding in the shadows. Waiting. Likely dozens, maybe hundreds. Oal, maybe. Others? In the castle? In the town? Likely. We’d been racking our brains for weeks trying to find Master Amas, then on the day before we are set to leave the castle a stranger in a tavern gives Tarr the idea to search the graveyard.” Everyone turned at Tarr, who swallowed, hard. “It’s not his fault, not at all. But it wasn’t coincidence either. Sama or his followers, they were pushing us, prodding us, steering us to where they needed us, to open the tomb, the coffin. They have been, from the start. In Astal, they killed everyone to put fear in me. Then Sama saved me, and told me to come to Ravenskeep. Once here, Oal attacked me to continue the fear in case I thought of giving up on the search, then someone put the right idea in Tarr’s head, and we did exactly as they had wanted from the start.” Everyone was sullen. They had been fools, all of them. “On top of that, Sama, I think … I think he’s been places. He knows things. He’s had followers doing his work, even without a body, and he’s been searching, looking for the others all this time. After a thousand years of waiting, don’t you think he already knows where the other demons are?” The room was silent.
“Maybe it was the same sorcerer? Maybe the sorcerer followed you here? Maybe it’s just coincidence?” Sela’s voice was shaky, she didn’t believe it either, but desperately wanted to.
“They weren’t. He didn’t. It’s not. In Astal there were others. I didn’t realise it at the time, but there were others there, helping Sama. There were pen-cu, and a canist from the south, also a knight, a commander of the King’s Guard, I think. He spoke with Sama for hours, he helped defend me … he—"
“Are you sure it was a commander from the Silver Order?” Valik interrupted, his voice shaky.
“Why do you ask that of all things?” Cassandra snapped.
“When we landed, I had ravens sent to the Order, and to the King, telling them Sama had awakened and … that the castle was crippled … and defenseless.” Valik shook his head in disbelief, if there were followers of the blood cult among the king’s knights …
“What now?” Sela asked.
No one spoke. Everyone stood silent, unsure, confused. Everyone except Carmine, who smiled, walked forward, and laid down next to the dead body on the floor.
CHAPTER 17: RACING
“What in the hell are you doing?” Cassandra screamed. The others stood frozen in shock. Carmine lay next to Monith’s body, their shoulders touching, as both stared up at the shattered ocean glass above. Carmine lay relaxed, his hands on his chest, folded, as his tunic soaked cold and wet.
“Get up now, or I swear I’ll—” Cassandra suddenly stopped. Carmine shifted his hands, no longer folded, they turned, twisted, and shaped as Monith’s were, mimicking them, a claw, snarled but perhaps not, a finger, a hand, pointing, upwards. The group paused, then everyone stepped forward.
Directly above them the group looked up, staring through the broken twisted cage that once held back a sea. Jagged shards of glass stabbed down at them, swirled in a jumble of metal and stone, hanging awkwardly and dripping. Beyond the razor edges, and the glass, and the last bits of running salty water, the roof curved inside a dome, a small hollow hidden dome behind the now broken barrier, hidden behind an ocean of water, hidden and secret, waiting, until now, exposed.
“What is it?” Sela asked. No one knew. Cassandra thought Monith had broken the barrier to attack Sama, foolish, if not impossible, a one in a thousand chance that the water would or could catch him. It didn’t. It hadn’t. And many many people had died for the choice. But now? Perhaps Monith had shattered the glass for something else, for this.
“Give me a lift …" Cassandra nodded to Aldrin, who quickly boosted her through the torrent of jumbled ironwork and into the narrow opening above. Cassandra caught the inside lip of the dome, and hoisted herself up. She sat on the lip, little more than a foot wide, and dangled her legs through the hole below. The dome was small, and cramped, and she sat looking around its hollow with her back bent against the curve.
“What is it?” Valik called up.
“Nothing … it’s nothing …” Cassandra called down, for the dome was empty and bare. “There’s nothing here—” She stopped. There was something. A book. A single leather bound book, thin, worn and old. Cassandra jumped down from the secret hold.
“What is it?” Aldrin asked staring at the book. Cassandra shook her head. The book had no markings, it was plain, no words, symbols, or carvings engraved its cover, and though darkened and tattered, it looked as ordinary as any other. The archmage stood for a moment, staring between the book in her hand, and her brother, alone and dead on the floor. Cassandra opened its cover and looked at the first page.
“What is it?” Tarr stammered, excited. Aldrin shook his head. Cassandra glanced at the boy, then flipped to the next page, then the next, then a dozen, thumbing through the book in a few seconds.
“What?” Aldrin asked, he didn’t like the expression on her face.
Cassandra glanced at Aldrin, then at Valik, then at Gil, her expression empty. “Every page is blank …” she held up the book by one of its covers letting the pages flap and fall open for the others to see.
“W
hy would anyone hide a blank book?” Gil asked. Everyone paused. No one knew. Aldrin grabbed the book and shook it hoping there was something else hidden inside. There wasn’t.
Sela stared up at the hole in the ceiling. “Why was it hidden there?” pointing, “why hide anything there?” she asked, her voice trembling at the thought of the ocean glass breaking, and the water rushing out, sweeping through the castle, and the valley, destroying and killing, everyone.
“It wasn’t meant to be found. Not ever. Something powerful. Something dangerous. Worth risking your life for, worth … killing for …” Valik murmured. Everyone turned and stared at him. He shrugged, motioning for the book. Aldrin tossed it to him. Valik closed his eyes waving his hand over the cover several times, chanting, commanding, calling. He opened the book. Still blank. He tried again, another spell and a dozen after that, they all did, but still nothing, still blank.
“I don’t understand …” Gil grumbled.
“Nor do we …” Valik breathed, finally giving up on the spells. “I don’t know what this is,” he handed the book to Gil who stood closest, and walked towards the windows along the wall, “and I don’t know why we found it,” Valik stared at Monith’s body on the floor, “but it doesn’t matter. We don’t have time to figure it out. What I do know is the King will send his knights here, and from what you say, some of them may not be on our side …” Valik mused for a bit, pausing, thinking, “And Sama will return. That is certain. He’ll come for you again Gil, he won’t stop, demons never stop.” Valik stared out at the lake. A gentle rain began to fall. Tiny drops rippled against the darkened water, chasing waves against the shore. “Sama will come. His followers will come. They will find the other demons and free them. If they do … that will be it. The end. Not just for us, but for everyone, everywhere …” Valik stared out the window, silent.
“We can fight them! We can beat them! We must … right?!” Carmine shouted enthusiastically.
Valik smiled, gently. “How? We here do not know or possess any magic or weapons strong enough to kill a demon.”
“We have Gil … and the shard …” Sela smiled. Valik tilted his head, considering the thought.
“And the sword! you said the sword could hurt it?” Tarr stammered.
“One sword, we have one sword lad, and even with it, none of us could even come close to striking Sama. Against three demons? We wouldn’t stand a chance …” Valik shook his head.
“Let’s find more then! Or those other things you mentioned, the light of Valor and the Kraccas wand?” Tarr pleaded.
“Kraken,” Aldrin corrected, shaking his head. “It’s a good thought, but it’s not possible. No one has seen other Elder Weapon in an age, they're gone.”
“What about the light of Velor than? Or the wand?” Tarr wouldn’t stop.
“Listen boy, those are myths, stories to comfort scared women and children at night. A light of heaven? Please … it’s as made up as a wand at the bottom of the sea, as made up as monsters in the deep … Leviathans …” Aldrin spat. “The best lies are the simplest ones …"
“What did you say?” Gil interrupted. Until now, he had been silent, holding the book, and staring at Monith’s body on the floor.
“What?” Aldrin asked confused.
“You said Leviathans are just stories?” Gil asked in a strange voice. Everyone stared at him.
“They are. I’ve been to the dark sea. I’ve been in it, under it. There’s no such thing as sea monsters boy, not now, not ever.” Aldrin was almost shouting. He was tired of listening to children. The room was silent.
“Yes, there are …” Gil stared out the window at the mountains and smiled.
CHAPTER 18: PREPARATIONS
The next few days passed quickly. Of the less than a hundred previous occupants of the castle, thirty six remained, included the archmages, Gil, and his friends. Sama was out there, somewhere, feeding, and growing stronger. With so few left in the castle, it didn’t really matter if he came alone or with the other demons. The king’s knights were also on their way, though if they were friend or foe wasn’t known. Valik hoped the Black Order might also send warlocks to aid him, either way, the Order was spread thin, in numbers, and distance. War was coming. RavensKeep was in danger. From Sama, from the blood cult, perhaps from the Huu-Di, or even Pillar. If so, there was little time to argue, for there were more important things to do, even if the bones of giants were buried in the mountains. The conversation was postponed, true or not, as the group still didn’t know how to find any of the things that might be of help, whether Elder Weapons, heavenly lights, or fabled relics.
Aldrin, along with Tarr, Sela and two masters that had survived the flood, searched the surrounding shoreline, but without success, for none had survived in the town. The lake had settled. The granite basin of the valley was the perfect cradle, surround on all sides by high mountains, the water could not, did not escape, it held the lake as if it was always meant to be, as if it was there before, as it was now, and in it a wizard's island. The thought was not lost on Gil, nor anyone perhaps, of how perfectly the water level came to the edge of the butte, or, of how the stockpile of boats and oars previously collecting dust were now improbably, impossible useful.
Cassandra gathered a dozen students and set them to work building defenses. They carved protective runes along the shoreline, for the old ones were now far below the water and no longer of any use. They inventoried supplies, and weapons, and assigned swords, spears, or bows to everyone left, regardless of what they thought of warcraft. They patched holes, and doors, and broken battered windows, fixing and repairing, replacing and resetting, restoring the castle, as best they could. Many hallways were full of fish, and kelp, and clams larger than oxen, yet none stayed that way long, for hard work grew hungry appetites.
Valik, along with Master Kalh, who had also survived, spent day and night attempting to teach Gil more than perhaps they should have. The shard amplified magic. Using magic consumed energy, using too much would lead to injury and death. Mastering the inner star was key.
Ko - focus, concentration.
San - Ability, stamina, perseverance.
Om- Belief, faith, to be without doubt.
Rann- Will, desire, want, purpose.
Satt- Knowledge, of thyself, of the world, of magic.
MaEe- the all, the everything, connected, fluid and balanced.
Gil recited the chant, Ko-San-Om-Rann-Satt-MaEe, over and over, a hundred times, a thousand, he spent hours in the dark, each morning, mediating, Ko-San-Om-Rann-Satt-MaEe, practicing, listening to Master Kalh, training his inner star, training to increase his energy, Ko-San-Om-Rann-Satt-MaEe, and lower his consumption, Ko-San-Om-Rann-Satt-MaEe, training to fight, Ko-San-Om-Rann-Satt-MaEe, to survive, Ko-San-Om-Rann-Satt-MaEe, to win.
It did little good.
In the afternoons Gil trained with Valik. Hours, long, hard, and brutal, were spent learning new magics. Valik was by far, better than the other archmages. He knew more spells, he knew more runes, and he knew a great many things they never, ever, taught at RavensKeep. He knew how to kill, how to spy, how to summon a hundred beasts, and birds, and many other things that didn’t have names. He had left the Castle many years ago, he had volunteered for the Order. Gil asked of course, but Valik only hit him harder when he did, and never answered why. Gil learned spells to snare victims, and choke them, and chain them. He learn counter spells, spells to free binds, to see through glamours, and spells to shield from harm. He learned spells to summon beasts, and birds, but was rather incredibly terrible at them. He trained with Kalh in the mornings, and Valik in the afternoons, and at night he taught his friends everything he had learned each day. Whether Kalh and Valik knew he did, Gil didn’t know, and didn’t care.
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Weeks passed. Sama hadn’t returned, not yet, nor had the King, or his knights, or the Order, replied. This worried the archmages more than anything, for no news usually meant bad news. When most of the castle had been repair
ed, and the dead buried, the group set upon searching every map, scroll, and book they could find in the castle’s library. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Far too many for seven, far too many for thirty six, even if the Master Librarian had survived. Yet everyone searched. They looked for books on Sama, on Amas, on shards, on the Elders, on the Ancients, and on the Fae. They looked for stories on the light of Velor, on the Kraken Wand, and on books without words. The searched history, and myth, and records. They looked in every journal they could find, and in every ledger they could open. They found almost, nearly, nothing. Nothing useful anyways. Nothing they didn’t already know. And though they searched, and trained, and built defenses, it seemed there was little hope.
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It was very late, closer to morning than evening and the castle was silent. Moonlight flickered in the halls, and in the silence its emptiness was great. Sela crept soundlessly, restlessly, and barefoot down the long hallway in the dark. She had been awake all night, thinking, wanting but stopping, needing but scared. The stone floor was cold, freezing against her feet, as outside snow fell, silent, slow and eternal. Drifts gathered at the shore, in the trees, and mountains, frosting the landscape with a glistening dust, cold, and white. At the lake, large icy flakes touched the water's surface, holding for a moment before melting to the depths below. Slush formed, here and there, in thick patches dotting the water’s surface. Sela paused at the hall window, watching outside, watching as the snows fell and the winds howled and the world turned cold. It was beautiful, peaceful, and terrible.